I have served for
nearly 19 years as a missionary in West Africa. That sounds like something
extra-ordinary. To be honest, just like the fact I can’t believe my husband and
I will celebrate our 25th anniversary this year, I can’t believe it’s
been nearly 19 years. It has been wonderful and it has been not-so-wonderful,
but it’s what I do. It’s my calling. It doesn’t mean I should be put on a
pedestal any more than being married 24+ years does (although, I am extremely
impressed when I hear about couples that make it to 50+ years!).
Being a missionary
does not make me extra-ordinary. It doesn’t make me super-human. It doesn’t
mean that I don’t royally screw up. Most days, I love where I live and what I
do. There are days that I am ON POINT (as my teenage son would say): when I get
a full night’s sleep (ok, THAT seldom happens), have a wonderful time of prayer
and Bible study before anyone gets up, get sufficient exercise and eat right, am
cheerful and loving to the people around me, am a faithful witness and Christ-like
example, am thankful and patient and encouraging, and at the end of the day, I’m
able to say, “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else with my life.”
However, there are
days when I want to be a “normal” person with a “normal job.” There are days
when I am tired of speaking other languages and living where there’s no
supermarket. There are days when I don’t want to think about how I’m acting and
what I say, and what I’m wearing and how it portrays Christ to those who don’t know Him around me.
I get angry and I say
things I regret to people I love. I am too busy or too lazy to read my Bible
and pray some mornings. I am impatient. I grumble, gripe and complain
sometimes. There are days that those of us that serve overseas call “ticket
days”- days when, if I had a plane ticket back to my passport country, I would
be packing my suitcase.
The hard part about
where I live and what I do is that I get lonely. I miss the fellowship of being
with believers that speak my heart language. I miss Bible study where other
people are teaching and getting to dig in together with others that love the
Word, discussing what the Holy Spirit lays on our hearts and learning from each
other. I miss talking, playing games, and just living in community with others
of similar culture. When I’m in the US, I want to get as much of that as I can,
hoping to store it up for when I don’t have it again.
I literally cringe
inside when someone acts like I’m blessing their group or their church when I
visit. I know that it’s meant to honor me and I appreciate that. But really, believers
in the US should know that I am incredibly blessed to worship and fellowship
with them! To be honest, instead of being honored, I’d just like to be
included. I want you to see me as someone like you. As an adult, I can’t slyly
pass you a note that says:
Will you be my friend?
___ Yes ___No
That’s just plain
weird! (But don’t think I haven’t considered it!) I feel funny asking another
woman I meet at church, “Can I have your number? Can I call you? Could we go
out for coffee? Could you come over? CAN WE BE FRIENDS?” I know that my time in
the US is limited and making friends takes more time than I normally have. And,
I know that for an American to invest in a face-to-face friendship that may
only last a few months when the planner is practically filled up with
activities already takes sacrifice and effort. But, I do have Skype and email
and I use them!
Be warned, I also cry
nearly every worship service when I’m in America. Worshipping corporately is so
very sweet for me. Singing songs that touch my heart with a large room full of
people whose hearts are praising the same God I love, hearing the Word preached
in my language, praying together in unity with other believers… It is so
WONDERFUL! I will never take that for granted and I don’t think it will ever
cease being like a large glass of ice water to my thirsty soul.
On a lighter note, I
have a confession: I get overwhelmed by the supermarkets and shopping centers
and even restaurants in America. There’s just SO MUCH. Even now, several weeks
since our arrival in the US, I still can get to aisle 3 and start to glaze
over. Even with a list, I lose focus and want to leave. It’s not that I’m thinking,
“In Africa we don’t have this.” Or “People in Africa are starving and Americans
have all this!” No, that’s not it at all. I just don’t know how to process it all.
So, just like if you came to Senegal and would need me as a guide to get
everyday tasks accomplished, there are things that are just hard for me to do
because I don’t live in America all the time. Things have changed here and so
have I. I may LOOK like I know what I’m doing, but I don’t. I may have a clue,
but beyond that, I have anxiety that a woman my age can’t do things that other
women my age can do with ease. Hey, I speak the language here, it should be
easy! But, really, it’s not.
So, please save the
pedestal for someone else. I don’t belong there. But, if you want to get a
cup of coffee or go grocery shopping with me, I’m ready!
2 comments:
If you are on a pedestal to me, it is only because you are my friend, and all of my friends are magnificently flawed, beautiful human beings who I look up to and admire and will fight to the death (or at least some harsh words) if crossed. You are nothing special for being a missionary, and you are everything special because you are Kimberley Forsythe! I love you and your honesty and your frequent blog posts.
I get this. I couldn't do what you do, mainly for the reasons you state. I'm glad I wasn't called for it. As for shopping, almost anywhere, THAT I am good at. My mother doesn't like Walmart because it is too big. She likes smaller stores. Don't worry, you are a friend, you just keep visiting. Since my 'home' is in Texas, and I live in IL, I get that, too. My BFF of 38 years is in Texas, so we don't see each other very often, but, we find ways to keep in touch. See you soon.
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